


so let me be everything that you need

by surething



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fireworks, Halloween, Identity Reveal, Katsuki Yuuri in a Crop Top, M/M, Secret Identity, all fluff no angst, at least eventually;;;, fashion designer phichit chulanont, humor so bad it borders on a crackfic, plot points so obvious u could predict them without reading the fic, sixteen flutes of champagne, that's a tag???? fucking sweet, yuuri is a rude & snarky boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surething/pseuds/surething
Summary: “Yuuri,” Victor said in a nice, slow tone. “Some people are poor. Some people can’t afford to pay their workers high wages. It’s a corporate world.”“Capitalist pig,” muttered Yuuri.(Five-time Grand Prix beauty pageant winner Victor Nikiforov - also coffee shop owner - finds out that his cute employee is actually filthy rich.)





	1. you still look like dynamite

**Author's Note:**

> while i've been gone i've been: getting into troye sivan, watching friends, working at a fast food restaurant, being fucking glad i'm not in the vld fandom, preparing my art portfolio, not writing my fic lol whoops
> 
> i started writing this as a serious fic but dialogue ALWAYS gets away from me and then none of the characters have consistent personalities and it turns into a crackfic (sweet) this is a For Fun fic so don't take the social commentary too seriously asdlkfsjdkf enjoy yourselves!!!!!!

Victor was on his third cup of coffee when he noticed the glimmering band gently circling Yuuri’s index finger.

“Woah,” he said, walking over. “That looks like real gold. You have to let me know which jeweler around here crafts such amazing fake gold.”

Yuuri just blinked and set down his cup of hot chocolate. The coffee shop was rather empty at ten AM after all the students and business people were gone, so he had no customers to attend to. “This isn’t fake gold.”

“You don’t mean to tell me that it’s real?” Victor laughed, putting a gentle finger on the ring, examining it closer. It did really look expensive.

“But it is…?”

Then it was Victor’s turn to blink. “Yuuri, no offense – but I pay you fifteen dollars an hour. And I don’t want to imply that you wouldn’t be able to afford a gold ring with a ruby that size but I _own_ this shop, and I don’t think I could easily afford that.”

“Well,” muttered Yuuri, twisting the ring nervously. “It’s a hand-me-down.” Which wasn’t a lie. Technically.

Victor laughed – the really fake obnoxious one that he did when he didn’t know what to say – and patted Yuuri on the hand. “Your family must be descended from nobility then.”

And it wasn’t that the people were – poor – or anything, but despite the royal family’s best efforts to curb inequality, it wasn’t happening that fast. Aristocrats still held onto much of the power and assets of the developing nation, and the middle class was barely coming back into existence. Yuuri couldn’t blame Victor for being suspicious of his ring. Damn it, he shouldn’t even have worn it in the first place. It was careless of him.

He shrugged, trying to appear more casual and less jerky, but his usual state tended to be somewhere between awkward and nervous. It looked more like he was collapsing into himself. Luckily, the doorbell jingled, drawing both of their eyes to the front door.

“Hey,” Yuuri greeted, glad to get the attention off of himself. “The usual?” Leo ordered a mocha every time, without fail.

It was several minutes later when Yuuri was done bustling around, and by then, Victor had long forgotten the ring. His attention span was that of a goldfish.

“You going anywhere for the holidays?” Recently, all Victor had been thinking about were the impending holidays. He loved the holiday season and not just because his birthday was on Christmas. There was Halloween, followed by Thanksgiving, followed by Christmas, followed by New Year’s. Just a string of delights.

“It’s barely October, so I don’t know yet…” mumbled Yuuri, scrubbing the countertop furiously. Victor found him just a bit strange because he liked to work nonstop and avoid talking. It made him a good worker, but terrible company.

“Well, I’ll be keeping the shop open,” said Victor. “It’s okay because I love it here. But we’re closing on Thanksgiving and from Christmas Eve to New Year’s because most of my employees are heading home then.”

“Nice to know,” Yuuri replied, finally looking up from his washcloth. “I can work whenever. I probably will want to pick up some more shifts soon, actually.”

“Awesome! Mila will be out on vacation for awhile come November, so you can take some of her slots.”

“Where’s she going?”

“Her family lives in Rusya – we’re actually distantly related – so she’ll be visiting them.”

“Not during Christmas?”

“Customs are different there,” Victor explained, draining the dregs of that third cup of coffee. “They don’t celebrate Christmas, so she’d rather come back and join in the festivities here.”

“Make sense.”

Victor just hummed and retreated to the back office, where he looked through his scheduling spreadsheet until he found November. Yeah. Mila would be gone then, which was a shame because she was one of their better employees. Not like Christophe, who was more interested in making his drinks look pretty rather than taste good.

He checked the schedule one more time and frowned.

“Yuuri?” he called.

“Give me a second! There’s a customer.”

Victor heard some cups clinking and the passing of change before Yuuri rushed into the office. “What’s up?”

“I thought I had you working the week of the 26th.”

“No, I requested that week off, remember?”

“Hm.” Mila would be back on the 28th, but that still left the 29th through the 2nd of December. “Any chance you could come in any time Thursday through Sunday?”

“No,” said Yuuri apologetically. “I have plans made for that week.” Victor typed that into the open spreadsheet.

“It shouldn’t be that busy, though,” muttered Victor. “The young prince’s birthday is the 29th, so people will be taking their families up to see the festivities.” He looked up and smiled. “Well, then, it’s okay! You’re all good.” 

“Oh, uh,” Yuuri broke in, wringing his hands. “Sorry about it. I can come back starting the 3rd though.”

“Solid. Thanks, Yuuri.” Victor clapped a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder and stood. “Let’s head back out.” He checked to make sure the pastries weren’t burning in the oven before shutting his office door and moving out of the kitchen toward the front.

* * *

 It was nearing late October, and Halloween decorations were already popping up all around town. Victor himself had placed strategic bowls of free candy around the shop. He loved the holiday because seeing the whole town dressed up was always a treat. Every Halloween, his employees would wear costumes to work – it wasn’t a company policy, but everyone knew it delighted Victor every year, so no one complained.

“What are you coming as?” he heard Mila ask Yuuri out front.

“Whatever I can find, I guess,” Yuuri replied vaguely over the sound of ceramic cups hitting each other repeatedly.

“I’m going to be a catgirl,” announced Mila. “I’m going to get those huge paws so I can’t hold anything, and Victor will be forced to let me go home early.”

“Not happening!” called Victor from the office. He loved Mila, but sometimes she could get a little obnoxious about having fun.

Her head of red hair popped in the doorway. “But Victor,” she complained. “Yuuri and I could be matching catpeople. He’d look cute in the right outfit.”

“No,” said Victor sternly, trying to keep a straight face as he imagined how cute Yuuri would be with cat ears. “You’re wrong, and you should go back to work.”

Mila stuck out her tongue and flounced back to the front. “We’re out of croissants,” he could hear her saying as she resumed her position as cashier.

Victor sighed and stood up to put another batch of pastries in the oven to bake. On his way back from the small kitchen, he peeked out at where Yuuri and Mila were serving customers. He squinted heavily at Yuuri’s delicate face, trying to figure out what Yuuri would look like with cat makeup.

The night before Halloween, Mila was pestering Yuuri again, but this time she got Christophe to join in. The shop was always busy around dinner time and directly after, so he had both Mila and Christophe cashiering. Their combined energy was a pure force of nature.

Christophe made some sort of lewd sound, the kind that made Victor wonder about firing him even though they were best friends. Yuuri flushed a light red, the kind that made Victor wonder how Yuuri liked his eggs in the morning. 

“N-No,” mumbled Yuuri. “I think I’m okay.”

“But we could get ready together and everything!” exclaimed Mila, clapping her hands and clearly ignoring a customer. The young man in line just huffed and switched to Christophe, who was actually still doing his job.

“I mean,” said Yuuri. “Even if we did match costumes, I don’t think I could get ready with you.”

“Why not?”

“My best friend…is very particular about my wardrobe,” Yuuri explained, wincing a little. “He owns a fashion brand, and he dresses me every day. Sometimes I think he wants me to be a walking advertisement for his line.” He said all this while making coffee at the speed of lightning. Victor thought he was probably his best employee.

“Yuuri. That is so cool,” gushed Christophe, finally turning away from the register. The line that had gathered collectively sighed and moved over to Mila’s machine. “What’s the brand?”

Victor looked Yuuri up and down. Under the apron, he was just wearing track pants and a blue t-shirt. It followed store policy for employee dress, but it didn’t seem that fashionable.

“You’ll see, I guess.” Yuuri paused in answering for a moment to hand over two steaming cups of coffee. “I think we all have this shift again tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Mila sighed. “We’ll miss the best part of trick or treating.”

“Are you kidding? The best part is when it’s all late and all the kids go home.”

“Yeah, okay Chris, but then all the good candy is gone.”

“We should all trick or treat together!” Christophe exclaimed. “And Victor can come too I guess. He might have to close up early though.”

Victor rolled his eyes from where he was leaning against the wall watching them work. “We already made plans to trick or treat together, Chris,” he called. The three of them swiveled around to look at him.

Mila was the first to break the silence. “Yeah, well I’m going to tag along then.”

“Sure,” said Victor. It’d be more fun with her anyway.

“I can’t, sorry.” Yuuri adjusted his glasses nervously. “I sort of have a curfew. When my shift ends I have to go home.”

“Do you live with your parents or something?”

Yuuri flinched at how close Mila was getting to his face. “Well, yeah.”

“Your parents are angels,” said Christophe. “My parents kicked me out as soon as I turned eighteen.”

“Kicked out?” Yuuri’s face was one of horror.

“Okay, no,” he clarified. “I meant that they made me live independent as soon as I could. I’m still on good terms with them and everything.”

“That’s a little harsh though.”

Victor cut in. “Not when you consider that his parents found out that seventeen-year-old Christophe and his then-boyfriend were having copious amounts of sex on their bed.”  

Both Yuuri and Mila considered that for a moment.

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Yuuri, turning back to the cups.

“Hm,” Mila said. “I guess I shouldn’t tell _my_ parents then.”

“Gross.” Victor put a hand over his eyes, fake-retching. “I really didn’t need to know that.”

Mila shrugged. “Hey, Victor, the crowd is thinning. You think I can head home early?”

“Probably. But stay on until the hour, just in case.”

“I was going to ask if I could go early!” whined Christophe. “C’mon, let Mila deal with the customers. I deserve a night off.”

“Mila asked first,” Victor countered, shrugging as Mila whooped in excitement. “What if I let Yuuri go and made both of you stay here?”

“Or,” suggested Christophe, “you could let both Mila and me go, and enjoy an evening alone with Yuuri in this nice romantic ambiance.”

Victor chanced a glance at Yuuri, who was going that light pink shade again. Ugh. No one deserved to be that fucking cute. “Good idea, but bad idea, because that would mean I have to cashier. No thanks.”

“Worst boss of the year,” muttered Mila. “Doesn’t do any work. Bad example to the employees.”

“I can and will fire you.”

“You know that I know that you have to get Yakov’s approval to fire anyone. And he likes me.”

“He only likes you because you’re his grand-niece like fifteen times removed through marriage.”

“He likes me better than his own grandson, which is good enough for me.”

“He likes me more than you!” Victor’s voice went high with disbelief. “He gave me this designer Chulanont scarf last Christmas.” He gestured at the cloth wrapped around his neck snugly.

Yuuri moved with interest, touching the scarf. He dropped it and looked on the verge of laughing.

“What is it?” said Victor irritably, stroking the scarf. “You’ll take my side, won’t you?”

“I don’t know if you want to hear this.”

“I do,” said Mila. “Go on, Yuuri.”

Victor crossed his arms and waited for it. Yuuri still looked like he was about to explode with nervous laughter any minute.

“I don’t know what your grandfather told you,” he started, “but that is definitely not a real Chulanont scarf.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope. Look here.” Yuuri pointed at a barely noticeable seam. “Look at that stitching. It’s terrible. There’s no way it’s real.”

Christophe meandered over, peering with focus at the scarf. “I’m pretty fashion forward, Victor, and I’m going to have to agree with Yuuri.”

“It’s a seam! You can’t even see it!”

“But it matters,” said Yuuri. Christophe nodded his head in avid agreement.

Five minutes later, Mila was still cackling.

* * *

“Now this is real Chulanont,” said Christophe with great excitement as he danced around Yuuri’s Halloween costume, prodding it here and there. “Oh god, I’m almost afraid to touch it.”

“Don’t be,” said Yuuri.

Victor had to admit that the suit was very nicely tailored. Yuuri made a great Dracula, no doubt. He was just still sulky about his scarf, although he had already forced several gritted apologies from Yakov.

“So, when you said your best friend dresses you every day…” began Mila, looking on the verge of tears.

“…you were talking about Phichit Chulanont?” gasped Christophe, finally connecting the dots.

Yuuri nodded his head bashfully. “That’s the one. The one and only.”

“Maybe you can get him to make me a real scarf then,” grumbled Victor, arms crossed.

“I could,” said Yuuri around his plastic fangs. “But since you’re so insistent that your scarf is fine, I won’t.”

“You’re fucking rude and I love it,” Mila exclaimed, draping her arms around Yuuri’s shoulders in her Black Widow leather suit.

“Fired,” Victor said, pointing at Mila. “Fired. Fired.” He pointed at the other two employees in succession.

“Yakov,” reminded Mila.

“The prince himself could forbid me from firing you three, and I’d still make it happen.”

“As if,” Mila scoffed, breaking open a new roll of quarters. “You wouldn’t even know it if the prince walked up to your face.”

“That’s not my fault,” said Victor, uncrossing his arms and moving closer. “No one’s seen the guy’s face in twenty years.”

“He was a cute baby though,” added Christophe. It was true. Three-year-old Prince-Unknown-Name had been splashed on the tabloids for a brief moment in time before the royal family pulled all the photos, and the prince basically went into seclusion. “We got the before picture, I just wish we could get an after picture.”

Victor shrugged. “Gotta respect his decision. Remember when I won the beauty pageant? I was such a celebrity I wanted to hide under a rock for the rest of my life.”

“Victor, you were seven, and you loved every ounce of attention you got.”

“Mila, unnecessary. Anyway, I think the prince is valid.”

Yuuri snorted from where he was making coffee. “Thanks for your validation,” he said, somewhat incredulously. “I’m sure he appreciates it.”

“Hey, don’t mock me. You don’t think he’s valid?”

“Oh no, I’m not mocking you,” Yuuri said, pushing up his glasses with a manicured hand. Damn, Chulanont was good. “But don’t you think it’s kind of cowardly? Like he could be a good role model for the people and do some real good…but he’s just hiding.”

“I don’t think it’s cowardly,” said Victor. Both Mila and Christophe nodded, agreeing. “The royal family’s doing fine fixing up the country with the people they have, and I can’t blame a man for wanting a normal life without scrutiny or pressure. Like, emotional health comes first, right? After the fifth pageant, I figured out that I didn’t want to do that again because it got so boring and superficial, and it drained me. So, I quit. I like my job and my friends now. So yeah, go prince. You do you.”

Mila clapped lazily. “I don’t deny that having a cool public figure would be great. But no one thinks he’s cowardly. You do?”

Yuuri realized he was outnumbered opinion-wise. “I guess I wouldn’t go that far to criticize him. But I think he’s letting his own anxiety and insecurities stop him from helping people.”

“Your opinion is valid,” said Christophe. “But we don’t know what he’s going through, or who he even is, actually. So, I’d rather not pass judgment.”

“Point,” conceded Yuuri. “Thanks, Victor.”

“Uh, you’re welcome?” Victor said. “Great conversation guys, but maybe you should be stopping that kid from taking the entire bowl of candy instead of gossiping.”

“You started this!”

“Hi, I’m Mila,” jeered Victor. “I’m five years old and I still say shit like that.”

“Worst boss ever,” said Mila, something she said about twice every hour. “No respect in this damn house.” She lifted her eyes to the kid still trying to make it out the door carrying a book bag and the bowl of candy. “Get back here, motherfucker!”

Victor choked on his spit. “Okay, too far. No swearing at customers.”

“He’s not a customer,” provided Christophe. “He’s a thief.” The boy froze in the doorway and slowly inched back in. Victor raised his brows at him, pointed at his owner nametag, and then at his phone, which had 911 typed out. The ‘thief’ set the bowl down and scampered out, bookbag rocketing up and down with his pace.

“That’s the calculator app, Victor.”

“Served the purpose.” Maybe it was actually the plastic handgun in his holster – it was a part of his adventurer costume.

“Ruining kids’ dreams on Halloween?”

“Christophe, your Halloween costume is gross enough to give any kid that comes in nightmares for a solid month.”

“Right in time for Thanksgiving!”

Yuuri made a gross snorting sound – it was the way he tended to laugh – from the back where he was making hot chocolate for himself. Employees got drinks on the house, which was just another part of Victor’s generosity.

The man in question just sighed and retreated back to his office for some peace and quiet before the shop closed down and he’d be prancing around on the streets collecting candy. Through the door came the filtered noises of the employees at work, although it sounded a lot more like Yuuri was tossing mini marshmallows at Mila at Christophe in a catch-this-in-the-mouth competition.

* * *

Was it wrong for an employee to date their boss? Was it wrong for a boss to date their employee? Was it grounds for firing? Well, Victor happened to be the owner, and it wasn’t like he could fire himself.

He was kind of nervous because there was a very large possibility that Yuuri would say no. Yuuri would probably be really nice and thoughtful about the rejection, but it’d still be awkward. Which, actually, wouldn’t be a huge problem, because he could just fire Yuuri and never see him again. Mila, Christophe, and his other employee Georgi would probably all beat him up at once if he let go their best employee, however. That was certainly a downside.

There was only one person he went to for relationship advice.

“Why do you always need to fucking inform me about your stupid nonexistent love life?”

Ah. “I think you give great advice, Yurio,” Victor soothed. In reality, he just liked to dump his problems on his baby – teenage – brother Yurio to annoy him.

“I was the first Yuri,” the kid snarked. “Just because your dumb crush is called Yuuri doesn’t mean you get to rhyme my name with Cheerios.”

Victor ignored that. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re fucking dumb.”

So that was definitely a sign toward ‘go for it,’ and ‘stop worrying about trivial matters.’

“I knew you were the right person to ask,” sighed Victor. “Thanks, lil buddy.”

* * *

It was a slow afternoon in early November when Victor tried to pop the question. Mila was out on her trip so Yuuri was here filling in for some of her shifts. It gave them a lot of alone time. Victor was trying to get to know him better before asking him out, but Yuuri remained altogether mysterious.

“You ever feel so lonely and stressed that your whole face just breaks out instantly?” asked Victor. They were playing twenty questions.

Yuuri didn’t answer verbally, just gestured at his forehead.

“Okay, point,” said Victor, zeroing in on the frankly nasty pimples on Yuuri’s hairline. “We’ve all been there. Your turn.”

“Okay,” said Yuuri. “Okay.” He squeezed his eyes close to think for a second. The doorbell jingled. “Let me take this customer, and I’ll get back to you.”

Victor saw Leo and made the mocha before Yuuri had even finished counting the change. “Here you go, Leo. Stop by again soon.”

Leo flashed him a smile and took his cup to go out the door as he stepped into the biting wind. A shock of chill ran through the shop as the door opened and closed.

“Hey, when do you think we can start playing Christmas songs?” wondered Victor, one hand touching the old radio. “I think now.”

“I think never,” groaned Yuuri. “My mom loves Christmas music, and she makes me practice ballroom dancing to Rudolph every year. I hate it.”

“This is absolutely blasphemous,” said Victor, who tended to use that word a lot after learning what it meant from a _Guardians of Ga’Hoole_ book in second grade.

“Just try counting beats to a song about a red-nosed reindeer.”

“I am a terrific dancer and would happily dance to any Christmas song.”

“Anomaly.”

“Okay, maybe not ballroom dancing. But why would your mom make you learn something like that anyway? It’s so out of style.”

“We’re…traditional,” said Yuuri nervously. “Hey listen, I have my question.”

Victor hummed.

“Do you want to go out for coffee sometime?”

He was silent for a moment. But then he and his big mouth had to go and ruin it. “Yuuri. We’re in a coffee shop. That I own. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Fuck,” said Yuuri with great feeling, turning the loveliest shade of pink. “I meant, like a date. But not coffee. Already screwed that one up.”

“How about dinner?” suggested Victor smoothly, finally feeling like he’d done something right. “I can close the café early today and we can go after your shift ends. I’ll tell Georgi not to come in.”

“Good, solid plan,” said Yuuri. “Good. Great. Uh, good.”

“Been there, said that,” reminded Victor gently. “My treat then. I’ll take you to my favorite restaurant. It’s Italian.”

“Okay, first, no. I’m definitely paying. _I_ asked _you_ out.”

“For coffee. I asked you out for dinner, which, by the way, I’ve been meaning to do for a while.”

“Wait, really? You’re really out of my league though.”

Victor gaped. “I own a coffee shop. I am a lowly coffee shop owner.”

“And _I_ am an employee of that coffee shop. Think about it, Victor. Use that big brain of yours – god knows that’s why your forehead is so huge.” Yuuri watched apathetically as Victor collapsed into fake sobs.

“I didn’t realize you were this snarky when I hired you.” Victor was still recovering from the forehead remark.

“Something about you makes me get really annoying,” Yuuri said, sighing in disappointment. “I try to be polite and hardworking normally.”

“No, no. I think it’s endearing. I get really overdramatic around you, so we’re even.”

“That’s literally how you always are.”

“But you like me,” said Victor hopefully, crossing his arms in an attempt to shield himself from a possibly ego-crushing reply.

“Yeah,” agreed Yuuri, thankfully. “So, let me pay.”

“I like you more, and I’m your boss. I make more.”

Yuuri looked pointedly at the floor.

“What? What’s on the floor?” Victor looked down, straight at Yuuri’s brand name loafers. He checked his own. Damnit. He was wearing the ugly no-slip shoes from the general store. Then he remembered the gold ring, and the well-tailored Halloween costume, and the ballroom dancing. The way Yuuri drank his hot chocolate with the pinky up. Living with his parents. His curfew. “Oh my god. Oh my god, you’re definitely rich, and I never even knew. You’re probably doing this job just to live the poor experience.” He laughed hysterically. “You know what they say.”

“What do they say?” asked Yuuri, looking more and more nervous by the second.

“Eat the rich!”

“Who says that?”

“Communists?”

Yuuri snort-laughed. “Uh, well, if my social status is like…a problem…”

“Nope,” said Victor very decidedly. “Not a problem. Just pay for my meal and let me ask you a billion questions about your life.”

Yuuri giggled in relief and nodded. “Yes, to the first, and I’ll try my best with the second.”

The hours passed by slowly. Victor kept eyeing Yuuri and his tailored pants. He couldn’t help but picture a grossly rich Yuuri in his mind, one decked out in jewelry and splendor and power. It was kind of hot. At the same time, it felt like he knew nothing about the man.

He stood up as Yuuri rounded the corner into his office, untying the apron.

“I’m going to change,” Yuuri said, waving a hand at his track pants and T-shirt. “The restaurant isn’t going to be too formal, is it? I only have jeans.”

“You’re okay,” said Victor. “If they tried to kick us out, you could probably pay them hush money anyway.”

“You’re severely corrupting my character here.”

“It’s just weird,” Victor mused, stretching and picking up his bag. “I’m not exactly sure what your character is supposed to be.”

“Boring, honestly,” provided Yuuri. “I’m kind of a let-down. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Aw, I’m sure you’re not. If it helps, I like you either way. But go change. I’ll meet you outside and we can lock up.”

Yuuri trotted off to the small bathroom while Victor gathered his keys and belongings.

The walk to the restaurant was short. Victor was pleased to find that both of them tended to walk at a brisk pace.

“My dog drags me around,” Yuuri explained when this point was brought up. “I can’t walk slow anymore.”

“Mine too!” exclaimed Victor, overexcited about the fact that Yuuri was a dog person. “What breed?”

“Toy poodle.”

“They are _so_ cute. Here’s a picture of mine.” Victor shoved his phone in Yuuri’s face, causing him to stumble.

“Your dog looks just like mine, but bigger.”

“They should have a play date some time.”

Yuuri hummed in agreement. It would be wonderful for Makkachin to spend some time with other dogs. Right now, the poodle had to share space with Yurio’s cat, Potya, and they had more of an archrival relationship than a friendly one.

Victor pulled open the door of the restaurant, ushering Yuuri in. He had called to make a reservation earlier, just in case, but there wasn’t much of a line.

“Sara!” he called, waving at the waitress. It was rare to see her without her brother, one of the managers, hovering around. Michele hated Victor. Probably something to do with his stunning good looks. Then again, Michele hated all men – Mila liked to call him the True Feminist Ally behind his back.

“I got you,” she said, smiling sweetly as she led them to a table. “Hey,” she said, primarily speaking to Yuuri, who she was unfamiliar with. “I’m Sara, and I’ll be your server tonight. Here are your menus. Any drinks to get you started?”

Victor caught sight of Michele’s eyes glaring at him from across the restaurant. “Water’s good,” he said, trying to make an innocent expression.

“Yeah, water’s fine,” said Yuuri, swiveling around to see who Victor was looking at. After a moment, Sara did too.

“Ignore him,” said Sara. “I swear, I don’t know what you did to him, Victor. He absolutely hates you.”

“I was born,” he explained. “He’s jealous of my glossy hair and pageant-recognized features.”

“But not your hairline,” muttered Yuuri, stifling laughter.

Sara looked pleased with the insult. “Whatever your name is, I think you’re great.”

“It’s Yuuri.”

“Anyway, Michele hasn’t figured out that I’m a gay fuck. I’ll go get your waters. Take your time deciding.” With that, she flounced out toward Michele, patting him on the arm briefly before herding him back into the kitchen. True to her word, she set down two glasses of water and left them to their devices.

“Recommend me something,” said Yuuri. “But not something too calorific. I’m trying to watch my weight.”

“You down twenty-four-ounce hot chocolates like shots, Yuuri. I’d say that’s the concern, not some heavy spaghetti sauce.” Victor paused and considered. “But you don’t really need to be so fixated on weight. It’s just a number, and nothing is real anyway. We’re here for a good time, not a long time.”

“Well,” said Yuuri, frustratedly, “you’re out there being like – skinny – and – attractive – or whatever. How do you do it? You don’t watch what you eat at all?”

“Thanks,” Victor said, before registering the other parts of Yuuri’s statement. “I know you’re going to hate this,” he began, “but I have a fast metabolism.”

“That’s what _everyone_ says,” grouched Yuuri. “I’m sick of it.”

“Okay, so you’re chubby. And you’re still beautiful and valid. It’s not one or the other. But if you really want to know my secrets, it helps that I’m not financially capable of eating out every night. I try to cook healthy when I can. My little brother’s trying to be a professional athlete, so if not for me, for him.” He could probably go off about society placing too much emphasis on beauty as if that were the most important human standard. By the fourth beauty pageant, Victor had developed strong ideas about most societal constructs. But he didn’t want to scare Yuuri off on the first date.

“Huh,” said Yuuri. “Maybe I should get workout pointers from him.” It took Victor a second to break out of his thoughts. Pointers from Yurio? 

“No,” backtracked Victor. “No. You are absolutely not allowed to interact with him until he grows out of his terrible teens.”

“Isn’t it the terrible twos?”

“Yuuri. Yurio has been terrible his whole life. It’s endearing, but he’s going to roast the hell out of you if you go to him for workout tips.”

“Yurio? Reminds me of Cheerios.”

Victor laughed nervously. “When you meet him, please don’t say that to his face. His real name is Yuri, like you, but Yurio is his nickname.”

“What dumbass came up with that one?”

“Me. I’m the only one who calls him that.”

Yuuri reconsidered. “Alright, I can accept that.”

* * *

“We’ve only been on three dates,” hissed Yuuri as Phichit was rifling through his closet. “He’s going to find out and it’s going to ruin everything.”

“It’s fine,” said Phichit, throwing out a couple of shirts. “Jeez, Yuuri, I gave you so many nice tops and you only wear tees?”

“All of the clothes you gave me are crop tops, see-through, or both.”

“That’s my trademark!”

Yuuri leveled his best friend with a glare. “Can we _please_ get back on topic now?”

“Okay, okay. You take him to the fun celebration. No one recognizes you. You have fun. You celebrate your life. End of story.”

“What if people recognize me?”

Phichit began counting on one hand. “Me, Mari, your parents, Minako…none of them will expose you if you just ask nicely.”

“Do you know what he said to me once?”

Phichit rolled his eyes.

“He said ‘eat the rich!’”

“It was probably a joke, Yuuri. What he actually means is ‘kill the rich, take their money, and promote wealth distribution.’”

“You aren’t helping.”

“Would it help if I talked to your parents and Minako for you?”

Yuuri grudgingly nodded, slipping on the outfit Phichit had laid on the bed. “Could you do that?”

“Are you asking him today?”

“…yeah.”

And he did, shyly, at the shop later that day. Victor accepted rather dramatically, as he tended to be.

“Are you asking me to close the café for a whole day? Think of my business losses!” he cried, gesturing at the customers, who looked up confused at his outburst.

Christophe chuckled, turning away from the register, much to the consternation of the three people in line. “I want to go to the prince’s festival too. I wouldn’t mind if we all had that day off.”

“Attend to your customers,” Victor scolded but acquiesced. “Of course, I’ll go. The shop will be closed, Chris, so don’t bother coming in.”

Still taking an order, he just wiggled his ass in response.

“Ugh. If I see you there,” Victor said, glaring at the back of Christophe’s head, “I’m going to chase you out of town myself.”

“Can’t wait!”

* * *

 

 

Victor accepted that his cause of death would most likely be Yuuri’s festival outfit. They always went on dates straight from work, and he’d never seen Yuuri in his casual clothing. Not casual clothing like his sweatpants-tracksuit-t-shirt combinations, but real street clothes. This time, since Yuuri had this week off, they’d met in the afternoon.

“Is this Chulanont designed?”

“Yep,” said Yuuri happily, unaware that everyone with eyes was staring at him. “It’s an exclusive line. One of a kind.”

“Fishnets,” choked Victor, walking behind Yuuri through the crowded streets if not because Yuuri was leading him somewhere then because the guy’s ass looked great in the denim shorts. “A mesh crop top?”

“Phichit likes crop tops. It’s his thing right now. Last year it was rompers.”

Victor was wearing a romper. It wasn’t as nice as Chulanont romper, but it was okay. “I remember that. I couldn’t get one of his. Not only were they sold out, but they were expensive. I think I’d have to sell my shop.”

“You wouldn’t.” Yuuri giggled like it was funny. “Besides, I can just give you one of mine. I don’t wear rompers. It’s too hard to spend the day in them.”

“You’d give me one?”

“Well, yeah. They might not be the right size, though.”

“Wait, do you think I could meet him today? You said he was going to be here, right?”

“Who, Phichit?” Yuuri glanced around as they neared where the main festivities were taking place. “He’s probably here somewhere. I think you two would get on like a house on fire.”

Victor clapped his hands eagerly, scanning the crowd for the famous designer. “I hope so.”

“C’mon, let’s get some collectibles before they stop selling.”

Every year for the prince’s birthday, the family released limited edition merchandise. The funny part was that none of the items had anything to do with the secretive prince himself. They were all just regular household items with an inscription of the year and the prince’s new age. Still, it became a pride point for a lot of families to collect one item a year. Many people boasted having every single item from year zero to year twenty-three. Victor himself owned a spoon with the number ‘sixteen’ on it, which he had bought on an impulse, probably planning to start a collection but forgetting about it the day after.

The crowds grew in waves as they got closer to the official royal stands. Yuuri shyly linked his hand with Victor’s so they wouldn’t get separated.

“What do you think?” asked Yuuri.

“Hm?” said Victor absentmindedly, staring at their connected hands.

“Item,” Yuuri said impatiently, pointing over the heads of other people at the stall.

“I have a spoon.”

“Okay, so not a spoon. What about a fork?”

“I’ll get the fork,” said Victor, agreeing easily. “I like the number twenty-four. That’s a nice age.”

“Youthful, huh?” Yuuri said, eye gleaming with mischief. “Muscles still strong, brain still working, hairline still decent.”

“I’m only turning twenty-eight!” yelped Victor, absolutely affronted. “My hair’s fine.” He patted the top of his head with the hand not holding Yuuri’s. “You’re twenty-three, right? When are you turning twenty-four?”

“Not for a while,” Yuuri said dismissively, flapping his hands.

“So, what are you going to get?”

Yuuri shrugged. “Maybe I’ll get a mug. You know, for the store.”

“What about a camera? Or a glass figurine? Or a light fixture? C’mon, Yuuri! You can splurge. I don’t mind.”

“I mean, I don’t really need any of those things.”

“The glassware is nice, though. Don’t you want it?”

“Not particularly.”

Victor gasped, eyes zeroing in on one item. “It’s a glass poodle!”

“Okay, that’s decent. You get the fork and I’ll grab the glass poodle.”

They took a deep breath and dove into the crowd, separating instantly. It took them half an hour to grab their items, pay, and make it back out.

“Jesus H. Christ,” griped Victor. “All this work for a fork.”

“A limited-edition birthday fork,” Yuuri reminded. “This is capitalism.”  

“You know what I say to that.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “You can eat me later. Let’s go. The real fun is that way.”

* * *

 

 

The festival was in full swing. Streetlights blinked on, illuminating the red and white overhangs of the stalls in a yellow glow.

“Isn’t it strange that we have a full on day of celebration for a public figure who isn’t even public?”

“I think that it’s harmless fun,” replied Victor. They didn’t celebrate any other birthdays like this, but ever since the king and queen had set up this festival, the people had received it with excitement. “I don’t think anyone actually comes to this thing to celebrate some dude’s birthday. They come because it’s fun for them and their kids.”

They thought about that and sipped at their hot chocolate in silence.

In a couple of hours, the crowd would thin as kids got tired. After the firework show at nine, families would dissipate. Then, the vendors would break the alcohol out and the young adults without kids would take advantage of the time to party and throw dance parties out in the streets. Ever since the prince’s twenty-first, the drinking part of the night had been a tradition.

“When’s your curfew?” asked Victor.

“Today? No curfew.”

Victor silently sent up a prayer to the heavens.

“You think I can meet Phichit now?”

“Let me call him and figure out where he is.”

They wandered closer to the palace as Yuuri called.

“He’s running his own stall right now,” said Yuuri. “It’s over there, by the palace.” The closer to the palace the shops, the more prestigious they were considered. Instead of just a tarped shack, Phichit Chulanont had an entire building.

There was still a line running out of the building, so they stood in it and waited for nearly half an hour before entering the heated room. Instead of the nice minimalist design Victor had expected, the Chulanont shop was the tackiest high fashion store he’d ever been in. Glitter. Pop music. Mannequins in weird poses. Phichit had it all. And people loved it.

“Yuuri!” the designer called from where he was taking selfies with his fans. “What took you so long?”

Yuuri gestured wordlessly at the line.

“I’d’ve let you in,” said Phichit.

“Yeah, well.” Yuuri shrugged. “We don’t mind.”

“Hey,” greeted Phichit easily, sticking out his hand. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Phichit Chulanont, and I’m gonna assume that you’re the guy who wore the fake scarf. Victor Nikiforov, was it?”

“What have you been telling him?” hissed Victor, turning on Yuuri.

“Nothing good,” deadpanned Yuuri. “C’mon, here’s your chance. Flip his perception of you.”

Victor spun back to face Phichit and shook his hand, beaming wide to show off his row of white teeth. “Yeah, I’m Victor. Five-time winner of the local Grand Prix beauty pageant and a huge fan of your work.”

Phichit inspected Victor’s face for a long moment, then looked him up and down. “I’d love to have you model for my line,” he finally said after deliberation. “I can see why you won those pageants.”

“No,” said Yuuri suddenly, grabbing onto Victor’s hand. “Don’t drag him into your world, please.”

“I’m flattered,” Victor replied, leaning into Yuuri’s hold. “I’m going to have to say no. I run a lovely little coffee shop down in the city, and I don’t know what my employees would do if I left.”

“Find another coffee shop,” said Yuuri bluntly. “The one across the street has higher pay and cleaner bathrooms.”

“The bathrooms are Mila’s fault,” Victor whined. “She hates cleaning the men’s bathroom so when she closes, she just ignores the mess.”

“The pay?”

“Yuuri,” Victor said in a nice, slow tone. “Some people are poor. Some people can’t afford to pay their workers high wages. It’s a corporate world.”

“Capitalist pig,” muttered Yuuri, straight-faced. Phichit, who had been watching the exchange with a bemused smile, pulled out his phone.

“Let’s take a selfie to commemorate the occasion.”

The three snapped several pictures together, Yuuri cutely throwing a peace sign.

“If you won’t model for me,” said Phichit to Victor suddenly after they were done with the photos. “Will you try a couple things on for me right now? Then we can head out to the fireworks and go drinking after. My shop’s closing down soon anyway.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Yuuri. “I hate to say this, but I do want to see you in this brand.”

“Of course,” Victor enthusiastically agreed. “If you let me snatch a scarf from you for free.”

Phichit waved a hand at all that. “Sure, take two scarves, ten scarves if you want.”

“I’m getting the ugliest design for Yakov,” Victor said happily, already moving through the stacks of cloth. “He’s going to hate it.”

Five minutes later, with the help of Phichit, Victor had found the appropriate ugly design.

“I’m going to admit,” Phichit said, “that design was not my best idea. But it has a nice flair. It just screams, ‘Wear me so I can clash with all your outfits.’”

“I love it,” Victor declared.

“He loves anything that’ll give his grandfather an aneurysm,” Yuuri explained. He shifted his bag with the figurine to accommodate the handful of scarf as Victor prepared to head to the dressing room. Phichit was eyeing the legging section of the store. “Do _not_ ,” said Yuuri. “If you value my life, don’t do that.”

“He has great legs,” said Phichit, staring at Victor walking away. “It’s almost ridiculous he doesn’t wear tight-fit pants every day.”

“It’s almost ridiculous how much I’d want to bone him if he did that.”

“Don’t worry.” Phichit headed over to the crop tops instead. “You know I’m obsessed with these, right now, anyway.”

“You should give him a matching outfit.”

“Huh?”

“With me. A matching outfit.” Pulling out a pair of fishnets, Yuuri assembled the exact same outfit he was wearing, but a size up. “Like this.”

“Okay, good, but let me exchange the top.” He grabbed the clothing and rushed after Victor, who was already standing impatiently by a stall. Yuuri felt a little bad for the other customers who were clearly here to talk to or meet with Phichit. Once the designer got into a project, it would be hard to get a hold of him.

Phichit had Victor try on a few different outfits before he had to get back to work talking with real customers; sadly, for Yuuri, Victor was effortlessly tall, gorgeous, and muscular every time.

“Can you be ugly for once?” complained Yuuri, crossing his arms in faux-anger.

“I had braces until sixth grade.”

Yuuri studied his face intently. “Even with braces, I think you’d look great.”

“Yeah,” Victor agreed. “I won my second pageant with braces. It hurt to talk, and I looked horrendous smiling, so I just went for the cool and silent approach.”

“Unbelievable.”

They scavenged around right outside the store for a while, trying food from various stalls and buying overpriced tourist wares. While waiting for the firework show to start, they caught one vendor trying to sell knock-off Chulanont sunglasses literally twenty feet from the real store. Finally, Phichit hurried out of the dark building, locking it up behind him.

“Let’s go!” he cheered, pushing them toward the palace.

“The hill is that way,” said Victor, confused. “And the hill has the best viewing spots.”

“No,” corrected Phichit. “You’re wrong. The best view is from one of the many palace balconies, trust me.”

“How do you suggest we sneak inside the palace?” asked Victor, rolling his eyes, exasperated. “You can’t even get to the gates without forty guards asking you where you’re from and what you’re doing.”

“My best friend often visits the palace for official business, so I have clearance,” said Phichit flippantly. “You’re hanging out with the right people, Victor.”

“Dope,” said Victor dreamily. “But isn’t Yuuri your best friend?”

“My uh…other best friend,” said Phichit, backtracking. “I have lots of friends.”

“Oh, unrelatable,” said Yuuri. “I just have one best friend. I’m loyal.”

“And by best friend,” added Phichit, laughing, “I meant just a normal friend. Yuuri’s my bestie for life.”

The two engaged in a tussle war, jabbing each other with sharp elbows and wiggling fingers as the palace gates loomed high above them.

“Purpose?” asked a masked guard, stepping in front of them, causing all of them to go still. Then Phichit laughed.

“Minako, stop, I know it’s you. Just let us in.”

The guard took off her helmet to reveal chestnut brown hair and a sharp smile. “Phichit. Yuuri. And Victor Nikiforov.”

“Woah,” said Victor. “You know my name. Sweet.”

“I’ve heard a little about you,” said Minako cheerily, as if her hand wasn’t resting on the handgun in her belt. “Nice to finally meet you."

“Enough,” said Yuuri, entire face red for some reason. “Can we just go?” With that, he dragged the both of them through the open gates and up toward the steps of the palace, where other guards patted them down for dangerous items.

“Minako just cares about you,” said Phichit quietly to Yuuri.

“I know,” he sighed. “It’s just embarrassing. She’s like my mom.”

“You know your mom would be all over Victor in two seconds. He’d have a feast in front of him in five, and plans for engagement in ten.”

“Don’t remind me. Let’s hope we don’t run into her.”

The trek up to the balcony was led by Phichit up a series of spiraling stairs. Victor was getting dizzy, and the grooves on the stairs kept making him feel like he was about to fall.

“Isn’t there an elevator in this place?”

“There is,” said Phichit, grinning. “Passed it two stories ago.”

“Fuck,” swore Victor quietly, legs aching. “I need to go into retirement.”

“He’s twenty-eight,” Yuuri informed the third party. “Stupid old. The nursing home is next.”

Victor swatted Yuuri’s arm weakly before they stepped through a small doorway onto a large balcony.

“Nice,” said Victor, finally stunned by the view. Over the railings he could see all the people sitting on the hill, waiting for the show to begin. Past that were many acres of wilderness, trees rising and falling with the land, spotted with small reservoirs. Eventually, the forest hit the mountain range to the east, which separated the green from the cold desert on the other side.

With that, the first pop boomed through the air, exploding in a shower of red sparks. It spelled the numbers two and four, for the prince’s birthday. The show was spectacular, entrancing all of them as they leaned over the railing, breath frosting in the cold air.

“Happy birthday, Yuuri,” Phichit whispered quietly into Yuuri’s ear, leaning heavily against his shoulder. “You deserve everything and more.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri murmured, giving Phichit a little nudge back with his shoulder. “Today was good.”

The last big set of fireworks went off, filling the sky with a rainbow of colors as one thunderous boom followed another in a string of explosions.

Yuuri turned to Victor, who was already looking at him, both of their faces illuminated a glowing red. As the last sparks faded from the sky and the crowd cheered below, their lips finally met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this fandom dead? i can't tell  
> i'm not in a lot of fandoms these days :/ my boys are in the military so i'm just chillin' watching 12 yr olds fight online  
> i watched blackkklansman the other day and whewwwww good shit


	2. a little more confidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> l m a o hi guys i wrote like the first half of this chapter from sep to dec and then the entire second half in two days (so many snow days in a row is really rare where i live, so i'm feeling antsy) also i needed to do some creative writing to escape my life bc i have to write like 6 essays for the presidential scholar program thing and it's like college apps again but 10x worse 
> 
> if you're reading this i love you!!! thanks for reading what started out as a serious fic and then slowly turned into crack. i have to say, all i'm good for is dialogue,, like,, character development? nah. plot? nah. actually good descriptions of what is happening? nah. giving this fucking country a name??? cannot fucking do it 
> 
> chapter title from greek god - conan gray. i'll probably be back with the final update in like. 3 months lmaooo bookmark it pls

“Is this even allowed?”

“What the fuck? Is this even allowed?” echoed Chris, lifting a disbelieving hand toward the open doorway to the office.

“I’m sending a picture to Yurio,” said Mila, furiously tapping away at her phone.

Victor finally turned his head nonchalantly. “You’re just mad you have no one to kiss,” he said, practically sitting in Yuuri’s lap. “And send it to him. What’s he going to do, yell at me?”

“Probably,” said Yuuri. “But he yells at you no matter what you do, so does it matter?”

Mila rolled her eyes and dragged them apart by their shirt collars. “The espresso machine misses you, Yuuri. You’re the only one who treats her right.”

“There are only like two customers. Can’t you just make the orders?”

“I have to cashier, sorry,” said Mila. “I’m not allowed to help with product prep. It’s in the contract I signed.”

“I’m on break now, sorry,” said Christophe when Yuuri looked pointedly at him. The doorbell jingled quietly in the background.

“The _contract_ ,” Victor said, squirming out of Mila’s hold, “also says that you’re not allowed to do obscene latte art, yet what did you do? Tell them what you did, Mila, go on.”

Mila crossed her arms, finally letting go of Yuuri. “Come on, guys, it wasn’t that inappropriate. The balls didn’t even have hair. No requisite cum squirt either.”

“A customer really went and asked you for dick art?” Yuuri wondered. “Why don’t I get those customers?”

“It was Yurio,” said Mila. “He just told me to do whatever I wanted. He also said he’d rather die than have me make his coffee, so I made it myself.  Sorry, Yuuri.”

“Yurio would rather die than let any employee in this café make his coffee, but he still comes here every few weeks. He’s got a soft spot for Yuuri, I think,” preened Victor, patting Yuuri’s hand gently.

“If by soft spot, you mean calling me a pig and threatening to spit roast me gently over a fire…alright, sure.”

The doorbell jingled far more aggressively this time, almost like someone was grabbing a hold of it and giving it a nice big shake.

Victor poked his head out of the office to see a small line of customers – and Yurio, hitting the doorbell like it was a personal problem. He sighed.

“Would you look at that. Get back to work, folks.”

They filed out, Mila pushing Yuuri by the shoulders. “He’s probably in line to get your autograph, Yuuri,” Victor could hear her saying as their voices grew distant. Yuuri’s laugh tinkled entrancingly.

“Victor,” he suddenly heard from the doorway, looking up to see Christophe.

“What are you still doing here?”

“I’m on my break.” 

“Not anymore. Bye.”

“C’mon Victor, just think about it.”

Victor glared up at Christophe, but with no heat. “Uh, no. Not happening.”

“It’s not exploitation if it’s exploitation of the rich!”

“I’m not telling Yuuri to get me a Lambo for my birthday so I can regift it to you in February.”

Christophe crossed his arms in faux anger, rolling his eyes with utmost force. “Why not?”

“First, like I’ve said, he’s going to see you driving it around and _instantly_ know what I did.”

“He wouldn’t care.”

Victor threw his hands in the air. “Then ask him to buy you a car yourself! If he wouldn’t mind!”

“Oh. Really, can I do that?”

“Ask him.”

“And can I get a customizable license plate as well?”

“Ask. Him.”

“Don’t clench your teeth like that,” Christophe advised. “Keeping your jaw loose relieves stress.”

“You leaving my office will relieve my stress. How long is your break again?”

“Ten minutes.”

“When did it start?”

“Fifteen minutes ago.”

Victor put his face in his hands. “Unbelievable.” Christophe had a slightly guilty look on his face as he shut the door of the office jauntily, but it was masked by the gleeful grin stretching from one cheek to the other.

“I hate my employees!” Victor yelled from inside his office, which wasn’t soundproof.

“Me too!” he heard inhuman screeching coming from outside. It sounded like his younger brother driving away all the business, yet again. Yuuri’s snorting laugh sounded off as Yurio continued to shout things in rage.

Victor sighed and stood up. _He_ was the dramatic one. The extra one. Everyone else was stealing his shine. The problem was that he was beginning to feel more and more like Yakov every day. Always irritable. Really prone to yelling at employees. Totally the opposite of his usual self.

“Christophe,” he said, walking out and over to the front counter. The man paused mid-turn to talk to Yuuri.

“Yeah?”

“I hope to god you weren’t about to ask Yuuri that question.”

“How did you know? We’re soul brothers.”

“We’re mortal enemies,” said Victor, feeling mildly happy when he heard Yuuri snort again. “Yuuri, darling, do _not_ buy this man anything.”

“Hm?” Yuuri asked, adorably confused and oblivious to Yurio, who was trying to get his attention by making something like raptor noises.

“Christophe was about to ask you some exploitative things.”

“Nonsense,” said Christophe, shaking his head indignantly. “I was just going to ask how you got your ass to look so perky in those disgusting track pants.”

Yuuri flushed but still answered. “I was…born this way?”

Victor leaned down and kissed him because Christophe had put the thought in his mind by mentioning Yuuri’s butt. It was only a little because Yurio was still standing there, waiting for his drink.

“Is this fucking allowed?”

Yuuri very visibly rolled his eyes, pulling back. “Can we do that again just to piss Yurio off?” He turned to the blonde teenager, who was fuming by the side at the very obvious display of a happy relationship in front of him. “Here’s your hot chocolate, Yurio. I spit in it.”

“He likes that,” said Victor nonchalantly. “Keep up the good work.”

“I do _not_ ,” sulked Yuri, grabbing the plastic cup to go and stomping off. “You guys are all dicks.”

“We all deserve raises,” said Victor, eyeing the door that Yurio had just slammed shut.

The calendar hanging to the right of the little bell suddenly caught his eye, red slashes marking off each day that had passed. All that talk of birthday presents and Lamborghinis earlier reminded him that his birthday was only a couple of weeks away. The café would be closed on his birthday, but that was really only because it happened to be Christmas. In fact, they’d be closed from the eve to New Year’s. Victor wondered if Yuuri would want to spend the holidays with him, but remembered Yuuri was probably a rich socialite with fourteen different parties to attend.

“…ever thought about coming to our Christmas party?” Christophe’s voice filtered in from his left, and Victor realized with horrifying clarity that his best friend was inviting Yuuri to their annual holiday party, which tended to be absolutely debauched.

“He hasn’t, and he won’t,” he hastily said, trying to do damage control. Signaling with his eyes to cut that shit out wasn’t working too well on Christophe, because the man continued.

“Well, you should come,” Christophe said, placing a friendly hand on Yuuri’s forearm. “Mila and Georgi will be there, and so will all of our other friends. Victor has it at his house, and it’s always the best party of the year.”

“Best party?” Yuuri asked.

“What he _means_ is,” interrupted Mila, who just finished helping the last customer, “we invite at least three strippers, buy an incomprehensible amount of alcohol, and play only bangers. And celebrate Victor’s birthday.”

“Or steal alcohol from Victor’s private storage of Rusyan bottles, because what’s the point of having thousand-dollar vodka if you never drink it?”

“Not steal,” reminded Victor. “I let you have it.”

“After you drunk-screamed at me for forty minutes about how it was a family heirloom passed down through the Nikiforov family for generations.”

“…I wasn’t thinking clearly, and I thought you were holding the hair curler.”

Yuuri was unsurprisingly confused by that. “A hair curler? The heirloom?”

“Yakov gave it to me as a birthday present,” said Victor, attempting an explanation. “He’s the only older living relative I have, so technically everything he gives me counts as an heirloom. Running joke.”

“That’s kind of dark.”

“We have a weird family dynamic,” Victor said. “So, can you guys get back to work, or something?”

“Please don’t divert the topic,” Mila said. “It’s very important that we convince Yuuri to come.”

It was, thought Victor, probably the lowest thing on his priority list right now. If Yuuri came to his birthday slash Christmas party, he’d probably want to break up in 0.2 seconds. If he miraculously stayed and turned out to be a party animal, Victor’s image of sleek, rich, soc Yuuri would be literally shattered. Which was fine. But then he’d have to reconsider how he actually didn’t know that much about his own boyfriend’s life. He was realizing more and more that Yuuri was extremely private, and no extended amount of going on dates was going to unlock his secret backstory.

“Maybe I should become better friends with Phichit,” Victor said, surprising them all. They were acquaintances now but didn’t really talk. “Maybe I’ll text him now.”

“If this is a ploy to change topics, it’s very obvious,” said Mila.

“Why do you need to be better friends with Phichit?” asked Yuuri, now looking slightly worried. He tugged at his sleeve nervously and then crossed his arms.

“Why _wouldn’t_ I?” countered Victor, who really just wanted to get to know Yuuri better. He figured Phichit would help him – you know, bring out all the embarrassing baby photos and picture books. “You know all of _my_ friends.”

“You only have three friends,” said Yuuri exasperatedly. “And they all work here. How did you wrangle that into happening anyway?”

“I don’t know,” said Christophe. “We all kind of needed jobs, and my parents said they’d literally never speak to me again if I became a stripper. And Victor was sort of like ‘come work for me!’ so we all did.”

“Let me guess.” Yuuri adjusted his glasses in thought. “This café is an heirloom.”

“Kind of,” said Victor. “It wasn’t passed down to me by Yakov. It was left to me in my parents’ wills. And I’d studied business and management, so I thought…why not? How hard can running this business be?”

“Very hard,” said Mila. “Victor almost went under like three times in the first year.”

“And I’ll go under a fourth time if you don’t start actually working. I should honestly deduct an hour from all of your paychecks.”

“That’ll put me out on the streets. You wouldn’t want that, would you, Victor?”

“I’d like to see nothing more, Christophe.”

“I should start my own restaurant,” said Yuuri suddenly, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “If Victor’s doing it, it can’t be that hard.”

“Okay. Okay. Café. Restaurant. Two different things. One is a lot harder.”

Yuuri shook his head. “No, we could make it like an extension of the café.”

“Wait, you’re being serious?”

“Yeah, we can just add like a sandwich menu. Or a lunch menu.”

Victor tried to bring the images of his checkbooks to mind. “I don’t really want or need to hire a chef, though.”

That was when Yuuri smiled triumphantly, slamming his hand down onto the countertop, startling a waiting customer. He leaned right into Victor’s space in a bold move, almost touching nose-to-nose. “You already have. It’s me.”

* * *

“I cannot fucking believe you,” moaned Christophe around a mouthful of chicken and rice. “What the fuck is this?”

“My signature meal,” said Yuuri.

Christophe, Mila, and Yuuri were all gathered at Christophe’s apartment. After Yuuri had claimed to be a superb chef, they’d all agreed to meet after work to test out the claims. Unfortunately, Victor had to supervise George on the closing shift, otherwise the bathrooms would never get cleaned.

“Victor’s going to be furious that he missed out.”

Yuuri held up a medium-sized Tupperware all packed and ready to go. “Always prepared.”

“This is really very good,” Mila said, finishing off the last few bites. “What else can you make?”

“A lot, actually,” Yuuri answered, thoughtfully staring off into the distance. “We can definitely do a sandwich menu, and maybe some hot food like katsudon – what you all just had – or soup.” He gathered the empty dishes and put them in the sink, rinsing them a little to make them easier to wash later.

“We’ll have to remodel the kitchen and maybe train a new cashier,” said Mila. “That’s Victor’s problem, though. The idea is obviously profitable.”

Yuuri smiled genuinely at her, sliding into a chair as the three of them began to discuss design and layout for their new project.

Meanwhile, Victor was tapping out a text to Phichit, obviously bored out of his mind. No one wanted coffee at this hour, and Georgi had already checked the trash five times, refilled the straws, and restocked napkins until the dispenser was overflowing.

**victor [8:43 PM]:** _hey phichit smiley emoji star emoji_

**phichit [8:47 PM]:** _hi victor. why are u typing out ur emojis_

**victor [8:47 PM]:** _yura deleted my emoji keyboard and idk how to get it back_

**phichit [8:50 PM]:** _oh cool_

**phichit [8:50 PM]:** _did u want something???_

**victor [8:51 PM]:** _what, i can’t just want to talk?? angry emoji_

**phichit [8:52 PM]:** _1\. i’m not ur therapist and 2. we’re literally only connected through yuuri_

**phichit [8:54 PM]:** _oh. lmao_

**phichit [8:54 PM]:** _you have a question abt yuuri_

**victor [9:01 PM]:** _biiiingo_

**victor [9:02 PM]:** _so how good is yuuri at cooking?_

**phichit [9:03 PM]:** _godly_

**victor [9:05 PM]:** _heart eyes emoji x 100_

**phichit [9:06 PM]:** _BIG rt_

**phichit [9:06 PM]:** _why?_

**victor [9:10 PM]:** _yuuri wants to create a menu for the café. and he says he’ll be in charge of the cooking_

**phichit [9:12 PM]:** _that’s so good. victor, that’s so good. shit now i’m invested_

**victor [9:13 PM]:** _has he gone to culinary school or something? his resume didn’t mention it_

**phichit [9:20 PM]:** _victor. his resume doesn’t mention a lot of things_

**phichit [9:21 PM]:** _but no he’s never been to like… *culinary school*_

**victor [9:23 PM]:** _that borgeoius snake was privately tutored in the art of cooking wasn’t he_

**victor [9:23 PM]:** _*bourgeois fuck_

**phichit [9:27 PM]:** _:/ you kind of hit the nail on the head there. u know us rich people :/_

**victor [9:30 PM]:** _wait really_

**victor [9:30 PM]:** _that’s kind of hot_

**phichit [9:31 PM]:** _u say that abt everything yuuri does….but uh mood_

**victor [9:33 PM]:** _flower emoji_

**phichit [9:35 PM]:** _i have to go but keep me updated on the food thing_

**victor [9:47 PM]:** _ok! i’m gonna go make sure georgi closes up properly. let’s keep in touch!!_

* * *

“Money is _not_ happiness,” Victor puffed angrily, throwing his phone down and gaining secret satisfaction at the clattering sound it made as it hit the table. “Let it be known.”

“I don’t know,” said Christophe, drying off a pair of water glasses. “If you have too much money, I’ll take some off your hands.”

“Look!” he cried exasperatedly, pointing at his boyfriend bustling around up front. “I feel blindsided. Completely and irrevocably betrayed.”

Christophe shot him a look. “Victor,” he said carefully. “You asked him to do this.”

“…I might have,” said Victor haughtily. “And what of it?”

The café was sure to generate a lot of profit from Yuuri’s idea – they’d open it up soon after New Year’s. They were almost done renovating the space since the place came with a kitchen already. But the money came at a cost. Victor had started the hiring process about a week ago and taken in a bright teenage boy who seemed like he had not only work ethic but enthusiasm. He figured the kid would make the place seem more youthful and happier…and less whatever the hell type of energy Christophe and Mila brought to work. Since they just offered lunch from 11 to 3, Yuuri was tasked to train the new kid on being a proper barista and cashier for the rest of his work shift.

And. It was infuriating.

“Yuuri, can you show me that one more time?”

Victor honestly couldn’t tell if the kid (“Minami,” Christophe hissed into his ear, “At least try and remember his name.”) genuinely wanted to know how to stack the cups again, or if he was just trying to get Yuuri to lean up to the high cabinet. Either way, it was pissing him off. Completely unwarranted jealousy, he recognized somewhere in his more intelligent half of the brain. Unfortunately, he was stuck halfway between his primitive brain and something more capable of rational thought. And the animal was winning.

“You’re like a little baby,” commented Christophe, decidedly enjoying Victor struggle with his anger. “And someone has just stolen your toy or something.”

“Yuuri’s not a toy.”

“Well, babies can’t have boyfriends, so I had to go with something baby-friendly.”

“I really don’t need your metaphors right now.”

“I think you need a break from staring at the kid,” Christophe said. “He looks kind of terrified of you now. Think about it – now that he’s scared of you, he’s just going to go find Yuuri whenever he needs something instead of you. Do you want that?”

“No,” Victor said grudgingly, crossing his arms. Then he straightened up and pasted the fakest, nicest smile on.

“God,” said Christophe. “That’s almost worse. Just go sit in your office or something.”

“And leave them unsupervised?”

“This isn’t a middle school dance.”

“Thank god.” Victor swept a hand through his hair wearily and leaned against the counter with a groan. “That reminds me I still have to plan the Christmas party next weekend. I _cannot_ fucking believe Christmas is next week.”

“I haven’t bought your birthday present yet,” Christophe admitted guiltily. Or just mournfully. Christophe generally found it difficult to express guilt as an emotion.

“You say that every year. I’m not surprised.”

Victor was used to Christophe lowering his expectations right before and then blowing it out of the water with something cool. There was usually one cool present and then one obscene one, which Victor tucked to the very back of his closet and never looked at again.

“Dude,” said Victor suddenly, realizing something. “How am I going to one-up whatever overpriced gift Yuuri gets me for my birthday?”

“Oh, is his birthday coming up?”

Victor’s eyes widened slowly. “Shit. Fuck. Shitfuck. I don’t know his birthday.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Listen, last month he said it wouldn’t be for a while! And then I just…you know, being me, forgot about it…”

“You win Worst Boyfriend Award. Care to give a thank you speech?”

“Uh,” Victor pondered that. “I’d like to thank the Academy…my dead parents…and I’d like to tell my wonderful boyfriend that I’m very sorry I forgot to figure out when his birthday is.”

“Me?” said a voice by his ear. He jumped about ten feet in the air, shrieking in the patented Nikiforov way. It was Yuuri.

“What?”

“Am I the wonderful boyfriend?”

“Yes,” said Victor meekly. “And I need to know. Um. When is your birthday?”

“Oh, it was a while ago.”

“If you don’t get more specific than that, I’m going to feel very sad. For a long time.”

“Um…in November,” said Yuuri, looking around nervously.

Victor gasped. “That’s last month! Oh my god, we were dating! You never told me.”

“I didn’t want you to, like, worry about getting me anything.”

“Okay, Yuuri, you aren’t allowed to get me anything next week,” Victor admonished sternly. “Like, nothing. Your hands better be empty when you show up to that party.”

Christophe watched with glee – and even Minami had wandered over to observe – as Yuuri’s face flushed a bright, bright red.

“You did _not_ ,” accused Victor, placing an angry hand on one hip.

“I might have gone overboard,” Yuuri admitted. “I just felt like I needed to prove that I’m a good boyfriend or something.”

“How many?” cackled Christophe.

“Just like…five?”

“How much?”

“Uh…more than…five?”

“Please let the units be dollars,” whispered Victor, looking up at the ceiling like God would be up there.

“It _is_ dollars,” insisted Yuuri. “Uh…thousands of dollars.”

“Baby,” said Victor really seriously, but everyone could tell he was pleased and preening on the inside. “You _are_ a good boyfriend. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I _wanted_ to,” said Yuuri staunchly, rocking back on his heels. “What’s the point of having all of this stuff if I can’t use it once in a while?”

Christophe whimpered. Victor shot him a glare. “Bro, what?” he cried. “Imagine being so rich you just _have_ to use up all of your money!”

Victor crossed his arms. “I just feel terrible. I didn’t get you anything at all.”

“It’s okay,” said Yuuri. “I had a good time that day anyway. It was nice just to hang out.”

“I know!” announced Victor suddenly, putting a finger to his lip. “We’ll celebrate our birthdays together. I’ll get you a gift. Well, two. One Christmas one and one birthday one.”

“No, it’s okay –”

“Well, obviously they won’t be as high in monetary value. But they’ll be heartfelt!”

Yuuri fixed him with a suspicious look but didn’t say anything. Minami looked like he was about to ask a really loud, really annoying question, but Victor glanced with meaning at a cash register where a customer was waiting.

“You know he’s probably going to mess up their order, and I’ll have to go and fix it anyway,” said Yuuri finally. “And fine, but you honestly don’t have to get me anything.”

“How about I buy something for every day since your birthday?” asked Victor, half-joking. Mostly joking. His wallet wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“You don’t know when my birthday is,” countered Yuuri smugly.

“It’s in your employee file,” said Victor. “I’ve just been gracious. I haven’t looked at it.”

“Because you’re a forgetful twat,” added Christophe helpfully. “Don’t worry Yuuri, he probably just thought of it two seconds ago.”

“Don’t look at it,” said Yuuri, suddenly going pale. “Please. There’s no point.”

“There are a lot of points,” said Victor delicately, sniffing with great feeling. “One of them is knowing when your birthday is.”

“November 23,” said Yuuri emphatically, tapping his fingers wildly against the countertop. “See? You know now.”

Victor squinted heavily at Yuuri’s face, trying to deduce if he was lying. Just then, Minami called Yuuri over to help with the register, embattled customer an inch from losing their composure.

“He’s not doing so hot,” Christophe provided.

“He’s doing better than you ever did, and ever have done,” said Victor spitefully, because Christophe tended to take insults to his work ethic with a grain of salt.

“Oh, sure,” said Christophe airily. “What’s the point of having your best friend be your boss if you can’t even slack off?”

Somewhere deep down, Victor was touched by the fact that Christophe had called him his best friend.

* * *

He _really_ wanted to respect Yuuri’s privacy. Like, a lot. But he didn’t really understand why Yuuri would want to hide something like his birthday.

“Mila,” Victor said seriously one day at work. “Is it an invasion of privacy for me to read Yuuri’s employee file?”

“No?” she replied, confused. Mila stopped washing the cups to turn around. It was late at night, after dinnertime, and Yuuri had long gone home. “Why?”

“Well, he told me not to. He doesn’t want me to figure out when his birthday is, or something.”

“It’s probably just because he doesn’t like the attention on his birthday,” said Mila. “I guess it’d kind of make you a dick to look at it when he told you not to, but at the same time, I can’t imagine it would do any harm.”

“He already told me his birthday. It’s the 23rd. Of November.”

“Then maybe he has some other suspicious stuff on his file.”

“I don’t remember anything weird,” said Victor, thinking back to more than a year ago when he’d first hired Yuuri.

Mila dried off her hands and slung the dish towel onto its rack where it usually hung. “Now I’m curious too. Let’s look at it together.”

“You are _so_ conniving,” said Victor, but there was an underlining note of glee. “You changed your tune so fast.”

“I want some dirt on him,” admitted Mila. “He’s so spotless. Like I’ve never met a human being so flawless. You’re overdramatic, Christophe’s over-sexual, I’m excessively pushy, Yurio is a fucking menace all the time, but Yuuri’s practically perfect.”

“He snorts when he laughs.”

“It’s endearing!”

“It is,” said Victor, thinking about how practically every person in Yuuri’s life adored him. It was hard not to.

They headed into the small office, where Victor scrounged around on his disorganized computer, looking for the file.

“A-ha!” cried Victor triumphantly, pulling it up at last. They waited, completely still, as the file loaded onscreen. Name, age, gender…all seemed to be in order. But then their eyes caught on the birthdate.

Mila stood up and crossed her arms. “Is it normal to forget your own birthday?”

“Uh…no,” said Victor, dumbfounded for once in his life. “But I don’t get why he’d lie about something as insignificant as this.”

“Maybe he just really hates attention.”

“He didn’t have to _lie_ though…”

For one, Victor would never lie about his own birthday. He loved celebrating it, and the only downside was that it landed on Christmas, so he had to fit two gigantic parties together. Also, sometimes people got him one present for both Christmas and birthday, and that just ruined his mood. But secondly, he was a little hurt that Yuuri thought Victor wouldn’t be able to respect a simple wish for a low-key birthday celebration. He could _totally_ do it.

“We should do a super lowkey Christmas party this year,” Victor decided, vowing to prove to Yuuri his dedication.

“Victor.” Mila shot him a glare. “You’ve been planning it for weeks.”

“I’ll use those plans next year.”

Mila pouted. “But that means no strippers?”

“We have Christophe!”

She thought about it. “Okay, good point. But getting rid of the strippers won’t make it lowkey. What else are you getting rid of?”

“Oh, come on,” Victor said. “Getting rid of the strippers is already painful enough. Spare me.”

“I’d say don’t bring out the vodka.”

“Mila. That is my culture. My heritage.”

“We’re both Rusyan.”

“Okay. That is _our_ culture. How could you possibly say that?”

Mila rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think you should be classier?”

It took a hot second for Victor to reconcile the word classy with Yuuri, who was always anything but classy. Of course, in some ways, the upbringing shown through, primarily in his expensive accessories, or the specific way he poured coffee. But otherwise, Yuuri was a serial snorter, chugged hot chocolate like an addict, wore almost exclusively track pants, and was decidedly not classy.

“I don’t think Yuuri would care.”

“Do you think he’s ever even had vodka? What if he gets drunk and dies from alcohol poisoning because he’s not used to it?”

Years later, Victor would look back on this moment and realize he was not only highly gullible but also had too much dumb bitch energy to do a quick Google search on his own.

“I don’t want Yuuri to die!”

“No vodka,” Mila decided. “Go for champagne.” She snapped her fingers all of a sudden as if struck by a genius idea. “Remember the set of champagne flutes I bought last year for the prince’s birthday? I’ll bring those.”

“Champagne won’t get me drunk,” Victor grumbled, spinning angrily in his spinney chair.

“You’d be surprised,” said Mila. “Besides, do you really want to get drunk and look like an utter fool in front of Yuuri?”

“ _You’d_ be surprised,” countered Victor, “by the number of incidences in which Yuuri has seen me behave like an utter fool and has not broken up with me. In fact, I am already surprised.”

“It’s decided. I’m bringing the set of flutes. There are sixteen, so more than enough.”

Victor sighed deeply. “I’ll buy the champagne.”

“Get the expensive kind.”

“Do I look like a money machine? I still have to get gifts for Yuuri, and everyone else…”

“You’re our boss,” reminded Mila. “Rich man.”

“Aw, fuck that,” said Victor with faux-anger, but he was clearly defeated. “Hey, want to go Christmas shopping?”

“I’ve already got my gifts because I’m on top of things. Besides, if we’re going to do that White Elephant thing this year, then I can’t help you.”

“Aw, right, I have to plan that too.”

“Are you going to ask Yuuri about the birthday thing?”

Victor squinted at the screen, where Yuuri’s file was still pulled up. “I think it’d just make him uncomfortable. And, I mean, it’s only a six-day difference. That makes the lie better, right?”

“The 29th. That’s the prince’s birthday. You guys went out to the festivities, right?”

Victor smacked a fist into his palm. “That’s right! And he never told me, and we spent all evening together. We even had our first kiss while watching the fireworks.”

“Feels bad.”

“At least we spent time together that day. That makes me feel better because I think he had a good time.”

“Imagine having to share your birthday with the prince,” Mila said. “Maybe he didn’t want to tell you, because he was afraid you’d skip the festivities for him.”

“I mean, I would have…” started Victor, but quickly amended. “No. I actually probably wouldn’t have. We haven’t even been dating that long, can you believe it?”

“He’s worked here for so long that it doesn’t feel out of place at all. It’s so…comfortable,” Mila admitted.

“We’re all a little head over heels for Yuuri, aren’t we?” sighed Victor. He thought back to his text conversation with Phichit way back when. It was hard not to love Yuuri on some level; everyone who met him tended to be dazzled by his light. Except himself.

For a moment, they sat in the office in silence, relishing in the brief moment of respite and ignoring the sound a probable customer waiting outside.

* * *

“I’m so uncomfortable right now,” said Christophe, dressed in one of the ugliest Christmas sweaters possibly ever made. “Where are the strippers? Where’s the vodka? What is this wholesome holiday spirit?”

“Shhhh,” Victor shushed aggressively, tugging Christophe away from Yuuri, who looked entirely too soft cuddling Makkachin in the corner of his apartment. “Don’t let him hear. We have _never_ had vodka on these premises, you hear me?”

Christophe looked physically pained. “I feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin.”

“I know, but Mila said this was for the best.” Mila was carefully pouring the champagne into the flutes that she had brought.

“Aw, fuck Mila. At least the pole’s still up.”

Victor lifted up the hem of Christophe’s sweater to see…lots of mesh. “Glad you came prepared. But keep it classy, please.”

“I’m always prepared to break out into routine. And I’m always classy.”

The doorbell rang, and Yurio stomped over to open it dressed like one of Santa’s Elves.

“How did you get him into that?”

“Blackmail. And his weird idolization of my boyfriend.” Victor’s eyes twinkled. “And this will be more blackmail. It’s an unending cycle of humiliation.”

They both watched as Georgi, who was the one who had just knocked, pinched Yurio’s cheeks with a completely self-sacrificial air. Yurio yelled something angrily and swatted Georgi’s hand away. His cheeks were blossoming with red, either from embarrassment or Georgi’s pinching.

Victor sighed. “So, Georgi’s drunk already.”

“Anya just broke up with him. It’s rarer to see him sober.”

“Fuck. He’s probably been drunk at work, huh?”

“He’s definitely been drunk at work. Mila never told you but we got a customer complaint the other day because she asked how his day was and he burst into tears and started telling his whole life story.”

“You’re supposed to tell me these things!”

“It was funnier to videotape it.”

“Send it to me?”

“You know it.”

They followed Georgi, who was now dragging Yurio to the living room. Mila and Yuuri were talking quietly on the corner sofa while Yuuri sipped on a glass of champagne.

Victor stopped and stared for a moment. “He looks so classy.” Yuuri’s little pinky was sticking out, and he had on an undoubtedly very soft black turtleneck. It made Victor feel a little fuzzy inside. He walked over and settled down next to Yuuri and Mila on the sofa.

“Happy birthday,” Yuuri said quietly as he sat down. “I feel like I have to tell you every time I see you.”

“Happy belated birthday,” Victor said back sheepishly. “Sorry Phichit couldn’t come.”

“It’s alright. He’s been going on about his Christmas release for forever.”

“Christmas release?” asked Christophe, interested.

Yuuri clapped a hand over his mouth, horrified. “That was a secret.” He downed his flute of champagne and grabbed another one. No one else had even touched them yet. Georgi was drinking out of a small hip flask of vodka.

It was too late. Christophe whipped out his phone and went straight to the Chulanont website, refreshing. “There’s nothing yet…”

Victor listened to Christophe and Yuuri argue back and forth about the merits of spilling all of Phichit’s secrets, while he watched Georgi tug an unenthusiastic Santa Elf Yurio and spirited Mila into playing Monopoly. Half an hour later, all three of them observed as Yurio swept off all the little plastic houses in anger and overturned the entire board. When he was still yelling cheater accusations at Mila despite the fact that five whole minutes had passed, Victor felt like it was time to put away the board game.

“I need alcohol,” Yurio grumbled, hand reaching out for a flute of champagne as if he didn’t know every single adult in the room was committed to preventing him from drinking. He was an athlete-in-training, after all.

“Like hell you do,” said Mila, who grabbed the flute herself and passed it Yuuri, who was looking very red and satisfied, likely on his fifth glass.

It was time for presents, they decided, before Christophe started stripping and Yuuri got _too_ drunk. Georgi was already smashed – they couldn’t salvage that part.

There was a separate pile for ‘Victor’s Birthday Presents,’ which they left untouched. Victor liked to open his presents in solitude after the annual parties, leaving a bit of the excitement for later when he would no doubt feel the silence and absence in his apartment more strongly than usual. The rest of the presents were to be distributed in a sort of half-assed White Elephant fashion.

Victor dropped a piece of paper with his name into a small bowl. “There, I was the last one.”

Christophe closed his eyes and swirled his hand around, grasping at the little slips. “Mila, you’re first.”

She circled the presents, unsure if she wanted the largest one or the smaller one she thought maybe was the gift Yuuri had brought. After all, Yuuri was the type to overspend on a simple Christmas present, and she wouldn’t mind receiving something expensive for once.

In the end, she chose the largest one, just because Yurio kept eyeing it curiously. It was fun to rile him up. She pretended not to see his angry snarl when she picked it up and brought it back to her place in the circle.

“Open it!” Victor exclaimed happily, making it pretty obvious that it was his. As if the shitty wrapping job wasn’t indicative enough – Victor was _not_ an arts and crafts person.

She tore into the paper with gusto. Yuuri made a wounded noise. He was the type to carefully peel back the tape and save the paper in his closet forever. “Woah,” she finally said, pulling a cardboard box out of the wreckage of the wrapping paper. “Thanks for the box, Victor.”

“No, no! Open it.”

And inside the box, was one of the largest stuffed tigers any of them had ever seen. It was done in a cutesy cartoon style but was nonetheless impressive. “Jesus Christ. I love it.”

Yurio glared openly at her. Victor clapped his hands happily. “I figured either Yurio would grab it, in which case, great! Or someone else would get it, and I’d get the chance to annoy Yurio with what could have been. A win-win scenario.”

Yurio’s hissing would have been scarier if he wasn’t still dressed like an elf, and if the little bells on his hat weren’t ringing with his every move. Yuuri was laughing so hard at him that his whole body was shaking, champagne sloshing around in the glass.

Victor patted him on the knee. “Yuuri, maybe you should stop drinking.”

“No way,” Mila cut in. “He’s on his, like, seventh flute. He’s on a roll.”

“He should drink them all,” said Christophe, looking altogether too satisfied. “Don’t worry about me – I don’t need alcohol to give a good show later.”

“There will be _no_ shows,” Victor whispered ferociously to him. “This is supposed to stay classy.”

“A _classy_ show,” Christophe amended after a second.

“It’s…so weird,” said Yuuri, much more than tipsy at this point. “I didn’t know you could get so drunk off champagne.”

“Try vodka,” Georgi suddenly suggested from where he was crying into a pillow on the couch. “It’s way faster. Helps way more with a broken heart.”

“Um,” said Yuuri. “My heart isn’t broken though…”

“Have you ever gotten drunk before?” asked Mila, taking pity on him.

“Yeah,” Yuuri replied with a highly questionable tone of voice. “I try not to though. Too many…secrets.”

Mila was snickering behind her hand. “Yuuri’s secrets are probably like, accidentally mixing up the laundry. Or stealing a croissant from the stale pastry bin without asking.”

“He must trust us,” said Victor happily. “He’s so drunk! It’s so cute!” He reached over and pinched Yuuri’s cheeks three or four times.

Christophe reached into the bowl but hesitated before drawing out another name. “I think Yuuri should go next, though. Another couple of turns and he may become too intoxicated to properly choose.”

“Are you sure we should let him drink this much?” Victor asked worriedly.

“Whatever,” said Yurio impatiently. “He’s a fucking adult. He can do what he wants. Let’s just hurry up so I can choose and then bounce.”

“You live here.”

“To my room, dumbass bitch.”

Victor rolled his eyes and pointedly ignored the insult. “Okay, Yuuri! Why don’t you choose?”

Yuuri set down the champagne slowly and meandered over to the presents. “This is a lot of pressure.” He touched the top of each wrapped present once as if testing for its aura. In the end, he picked one up that was flat and uneven with gold wrapping paper.

Peeling away the tape slowly as best as he could with clumsy fingers, Yuuri gingerly unwrapped it and set the paper aside in a pile. “This is…very lacy,” he said, staring at the mess of black fabric. Immediately, all heads turned to Christophe.

“Alright, alright. That _is_ my present,” he said. “I’m happy Yuuri chose it because it really would have only fit Yuuri and Mila.”

“You got me lingerie,” said Yuuri, choking back emotion. He flung himself at Christophe, who caught him in surprise.

“Is it just me, or is Yuuri behaving extremely strangely?” whispered Mila to Victor.

“He looks happier,” said Victor, shrugging. “Although I wasn’t expecting him to get so happy about lingerie. Not complaining, though.”

Yuuri folded the matching pieces of black lingerie together and trotted off to put them with his jacket.

“Georgi, you are next,” Christophe proclaimed, tossing the little slip of paper onto the ground.

He picked Yuuri’s present, which cheered him up marginally as it was a very expensive-looking coffee maker along with several bags of best-quality foreign coffee beans. It almost distracted him from thinking about Anya, which consequently made everyone else in the room very cheerful as well.

“It’s so nice to have a rich friend,” Mila sighed, eyeing the coffee beans wistfully.

Victor, who was very aware of coffee bean quality – he was a small coffee shop owner and purchased all of his stock personally – gaped at the bags. “Yuuri, these are very rare. Like, I don’t think they’re usually even in stock. Like, I don’t even think we’re on good terms with the country that grows those.”

“I tried my best,” said Yuuri contentedly, face glowing. He was _still_ drinking, and Victor was concerned that no one else was concerned.

“Where did you get these?”

“Oh,” said Yuuri sleepily, giggling to himself for some reason. “I just asked…um…the prince.”

“No, really.”

“No, I asked the prince!” Yuuri insisted, laughing noisily behind a hand. Something was apparently very funny to him, only no one else was in on the joke.

“Dude,” said Yurio furiously. “No offense, but literally no one knows what the prince looks like. Or where he is. Stop fucking lying.”

“Well,” Yuuri drawled, leaning on Victor’s shoulder happily, “ _I_ know what he looks like and where he is. We’re…uh…we’re…best friends!” He giggled again, whole face scrunching up.

“I _knew_ it was a wrong idea to let him have,” Victor checked how many flutes were left, “ten flutes of champagne. He’s literally delirious.”

“I mean,” said Mila, calculating something in her head. “He could be telling the truth.” The others were already shaking their head. “Think about it. Who else could’ve gotten these fantastic coffee beans if not the royal family?”

“He _is_ nobility, we’ve established that,” added Christophe.

Victor suddenly gasped as he remembered something. “On the prince’s birthday – or on Yuuri’s birthday, whatever – Phichit said one of his friends visits the palace frequently, and that’s how we got access to watch the fireworks from a palace balcony!”

“Oh my god,” Mila whispered.

“Yuuri and Phichit are friends with the missing prince,” Christophe finished.

“Yup!” Yuuri finally said decisively, cheeks rosy with laughter. Victor still couldn’t figure out why his boyfriend was laughing that much, but it was cute.

He leaned over and kissed Yuuri on the cheek. “Can’t blame you for hiding that,” he said fondly. “It must be a big secret to have to keep all the time.”

“I guess he trusts us,” Mila said, echoing what Victor said earlier. “We have to protect his secret to the end. No getting him drunk in public, guys. He folds like a house of cards.”

Christophe had already moved on to more interesting matters. “Can we meet him?”

“Um…” said Yuuri hesitantly, eyes looking up at the ceiling like he was really thinking about it. “Nope!”

“Darn,” Yurio said. “Would like to chew out that little rat for being such a fucking coward.”

Yuuri flinched. He quickly drained the rest of the champagne and picked up another flute.

“Don’t talk about his friend that way,” said Victor admonishingly. “That’s rude.”

“I’m rude, and I fucking love myself.”

“Atta boy,” said Mila with admiration. “I’ve trained you well.”

Christophe was already scrutinizing the next piece of paper from the bowl. “It’s me!”

The rest of the evening went by in a similar fashion as Christophe, Yurio, then finally Victor, selected presents. Yuuri was getting progressively drunker, and at some point, ended up completely in Victor’s lap.

“Presents over!” Christophe said happily, bouncing to his feet. “Now it’s time for little Yuri to go to bed, and the adults to hang out.”

Yurio looked like he was going to argue, then seemed to remember the type of ‘hanging out’ Christophe enjoyed and quickly scuttled off to his room. “Happy fucking holidays!” he yelled and slammed the door shut. “Don’t play the music too fucking loud!”

It was too late. Mila was already hooking up her phone to the speakers and turning the volume all the way up. Christophe was taking off his clothes. Oh and –

“Yuuri, are you stripping too?” Christophe asked delightedly as Yuuri struggled out of his top with clumsy hands. Victor was trying to help him back into the clothing to no avail – when Yuuri wanted to do something, he did it.

“Oh my god,” Mila said, gasping in laughter. “He finished the champagne. He had sixteen fucking flutes of champagne. That’s like two bottles.”

“He’s going to die from alcohol poisoning,” said Victor sadly. “Why didn’t we stop him?”

“But look!” Christophe said, gesturing at Yuuri, who was halfway to naked. “Isn’t this just great? Now I have a dancing partner!”

“He takes ballroom dancing,” Victor said. “I don’t think he’s capable of what _you’re_ thinking of.” Yuuri grabbed the pole with both hands and mounted it, twisting upside down in one fluid motion. “Okay,” Victor amended. “I was wrong.”

Yuuri performed another elegant set of moves, surprisingly nimble despite being completely smashed. Dropping down from the pole, he stalked over to Victor and placed a hand on his jaw, drawing him in close. “Don’t take your eyes off me.”

Mila and Christophe were hooting (Georgi was crying) in the background, but all Victor could think was that he needed alcohol. Now. Fuck a classy party – Yuuri was already shit-faced and clearly so over being classy. Looked like he needed to talk to his boyfriend about keeping secrets from him.

He made eye contact with Mila, who sighed, but then went with him to the kitchen and helped retrieve his extravagantly expensive vodka.

“Look,” said Victor, waving his hands madly at Christophe and Yuuri hanging off the pole with pulsing pop music erupting from the speakers. “I don’t think now is the time to stick to champagne.”

“I mean, you’re right,” Mila said, setting the alcohol down. “I think I’m going to need four shots immediately to bleach my eyes after seeing Christophe in underwear that small.”

“It’s kind of hot,” said Victor.

“I’m a lesbian.”

“Right.”

They poured each other shots and then downed them in a gulp.

“Feels like I’m right at home again,” sighed Mila, already pouring another.

The night passed in a blur. Pictures were taken, clothing lost, and alcohol consumed. By the end of the party – which was when they were all asleep on the floor – all of them were about as drunk as Georgi when he had first stepped through the door.

* * *

“Wake up, Yuuri!” chirped a horrendously annoying voice from beside his ear. His whole face hurt. Scratch that. His whole body was screaming at him to disappear back into the void. He couldn’t remember anything after Yurio flipping the Monopoly board – not even exchanging presents, which he knew they must have done because it was on the itinerary.

“Fuck…shut up,” he mumbled, willing the annoying voice to go away.

“You will _never_ guess what you did last night,” said the voice.

His head spun, and he opened his eyes a crack to get blinded by light. A vague swell of nausea rose, and he threw off the blanket that was on him, pushed past – _Victor, I think?_ – and rushed to the bathroom. Then threw up. Violently.

“Feel better?” said Victor, sauntering into the bathroom, wrinkling his nose at the smell.

“Why,” groaned Yuuri, who _was_ feeling better after puking, “would you let me drink that much.”

“You were giggling and cute and happy,” Victor said, shrugging. “Breakfast is out on the table. I made the rest of them get out already, if you’re wondering why it’s so quiet.”

“How are you so fine?”

“I was born this way, Yuuri. I’m flattered, though.”

“No, like, why aren’t you hungover?” Victor looked annoyingly perfect. Yuuri was only in his boxers, sweating and leaning over a puke-filled toilet. He would understand if Victor wanted to break up with him right at this instant.

“Genes!”

“That is _so_ unfair.” He took the helping hand Victor lent him and stood up shakily. “I’m going to brush my teeth, eat breakfast, and then you’re going to tell me what happened. Because I remember nothing.”

“I have pictures!”

“Please delete them.” He was turning an awful shade of red as he squeezed toothpaste onto the toothbrush he kept at Victor’s apartment.

“You look so cute though. And sexy. Mostly sexy.”

Yuuri brushed his teeth aggressively to drown out Victor talking about how sexy he was last night. He didn’t even remember last night! He had probably made a complete fool of himself in front of his literally perfect gorgeous boyfriend and subsequently ruined the only good relationship he’d ever been in. Spitting out the foam, he rinsed his mouth out and trailed Victor to the table. All the unopened birthday and Christmas presents were sitting in a pile by the door still. No doubt Victor had wanted to open their presents together.

“Hit me with it,” he said, sighing, stuffing four pieces of bacon into his mouth at once. His head was still pounding, and he hated it.

“Well,” Victor said, drawing out all his syllables annoyingly. “You pole danced.” Yuuri grew a shade redder, but his mouth was occupied with food. “You gave Christophe a lap dance. Then you gave me one.”

Yuuri made the sound equivalent of a keyboard smash through his mouthful, then swallowed with great effort. “I what?”

“And you told me you were in love with me! Which is really sweet, honestly, I love you too. I kind of wish you were lucid when you said that though.”

This was the most embarrassed Yuuri had ever been in his entire twenty-four years. Which was saying a lot. It was marginally better only because Victor confirmed that it was a mutual feeling, but confessing while black-out drunk was decidedly the least romantic thing in the world. And they had only been dating for a month and a half, although Yuuri had been pining for way longer. “I’m the worst boyfriend,” Yuuri said, face in his hands. “Break up with me now.”

“No way!” Victor said. “You surprised me! Like not just with the confession, but with everything you did last night. It was great. You are the greatest person I know.”

“Well…” Yuuri looked up shyly from the plate, inching his hand closer to Victor’s until their fingers touched. “I’m plenty lucid now. And I’m honestly in love with you.” It was true. Victor was dramatic and annoying and sometimes a complete airhead, but he always supported Yuuri. And he was kind at heart, and pretty, and it was hard to encompass in words all the gymnastics tricks his heart did when they were together.

They had a moment of staring at each other tenderly before Victor snapped his fingers with sudden clarity. “Oh! You also told all of us you were friends with the prince. But don’t worry, none of us will tell your secret.”

All the blood drained from Yuuri’s face. He took a deep, deep breath in horror. “ _What_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey thanks for reading!!! hope u uhhhh enjoyed
> 
> it's always made me feel weird that i've only written for yoi, because i don't really engage with the fandom that much? i'm not really in any fandoms except fma rn?? i really vaguely follow bnha and there are too many abuse apologists to make me wanna interact with fandom (as an abused kid, it,,, really bothers me). so. yoi is the only thing i really let myself write for! i'm not like advanced enough to attempt to figure out kiribaku because if i did i'd really wanna do it,, RIGHT because characters are so complex in bnha. and i really don't want to mess them up?? it's a really lovely relationship though. oh lmao that's also kinda how i feel about fma like canon is SO GOOD that creating fanon work scares the shit out of me lmao (except for bnha it's like. fanon meta is SO GOOD that it freaks me out) 
> 
> anyway!! see ya next time!


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